


It hurts, but I’m used to pain, so no biggie

by VrottaBuddaPanda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, De-Aged Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Kid Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-01-16 19:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VrottaBuddaPanda/pseuds/VrottaBuddaPanda
Summary: Tony Stark has a mask. Several masks actually. Not that anyone but the closest to him know about them. Most, in fact, don’t. Avengers team included. He formed this masks for a reason, the reason being Howard Stark’s shitty parenting, and he would die twice over before his disastrous childhood is revealed to his team.But after the Civil War he’s left broken, his masks cracked, and when the team coming back coincides with a sorcerer reversing Tony to his 6 year old self, no memories of his old self and an emotional baggage as big as the Hulk, the team is left spinning from the kid’s behavior. Will they find out about Howard’s abuse? Will Tony let them?And most importantly, can Tony heal?





	1. The Mask

A sardonic smile here, a sexual joke there, and a great deal of sarcasm. That was Tony’s mask. He knew it probably wasn’t the best of ideas to keep it up in front of the team, but each of them wore one too so it couldn’t be too bad right? Everyone wore one after all, just look at Natasha ‘I don’t care’ Romanov or Thor ‘I don’t understand’ Odison, even Steve hid behind his Captain America persona.

But Tony saw through all their masks, saw their pain and their hidden nightmares. He noticed how hoarse Clint’s voice would be after a night passed screaming, or how dark the deep circles under Bruce’s eyes would get after days passed in the lab avoiding the nightmares sleep brought. Or how puffy and red Wanda’s eyes would be after crying for her brother. He knew how heavy their pasts were, and it would only get worse if he told them his own.

He couldn’t deal with how that heaviness would grow or seeing pity in their eyes. It would break him. So he did the best he could to lighten the mood when they went in those dark places by either using heavy sarcasm or by being an amusing idiot. Some times it was incredibly easy for them to forget he was a certified genius.

Which made the mask even stronger.

But even though he usually preferred the masked version to his real self, enjoyed it even, he was beginning to hate it. It was becoming too real. Even if it had its cracks. And it was tiring to hold it on all the time, so tiring that he started slipping.

Also people were annoyed by his masked self, some even hated him for it. But as long as they believed it, it was okay. He preferred to be hated for something he wasn’t rather than being hated for being himself.

Ultron brought a crack, losing J.A.R.V.I.S. another, Pepper leaving him brought a crack and then the so called Civil War came with a whole bunch of new cracks. Rhodey’s fall brought a crack, Natasha leaving brought another, Clint and Wanda throwing cars at him another, and then there was Siberia, and boy didn’t that bring a big ass crack.

His mask was throughly shattered, but it didn’t matter because there was no one there to see. He had just been discharged from the hospital with a brand new arc reactor (that nobody knew about thanks to the bandages he put around it) so he was alone in the empty compound since Rhodey was still in the hospital and Vision went with Wanda after the rogues escaped. Pepper didn’t even call anymore, just emailed him about SI, and Happy was with her. Better that way, he at least would make her happy, Tony just hoped to be invited at their wedding. So, alone in the compound, he had done what he had wanted to do for a while.

He had killed himself

And he had succeeded. After he had cut his wrists, blood pooling around him and the bots beeping worriedly outside the bathroom door, he had closed his eyes and drifted off hoping to not wake up. And he had succeeded, for about a minute. Then he was taken to the Cradle by a suit commanded by F.R.I.D.A.Y.

The only thing he had succeeded in was making two long, jagged, bright pink twin scars that went from his wrists to almost his elbows.

But after all he still had to rebuild his mask piece by piece because the rogues were back. Actually, they weren’t home yet, he was the one in Wakanda. It had taken an entire week but finally they signed the modified accords. There was only one problem, other than their anger towards him, his masks still had cracks. They were becoming wider and wider with each memory that came to hunt him. But he didn’t want to face his past, which had become more persistent since Siberia.

Another thing he didn’t want to face was his deep care for Nat. Not because he cared about her more than he did the others, even though he kinda did, even if just a little bit. But because she was the one who could figure him out-and almost did, without him telling her. And if he thought too much about how much he cared for her, he might just give in and let her know the truth. He had come to see her as the sister he never had, and had come to know her more than he ever thought he could. It was owed mostly to the sleepless nights spent in each other’s company with a bottle of whiskey and confessions from their pasts. Even if mostly it was Nat confessing and Tony listening.They bonded by talking about everything and nothing. He even began thinking she was starting to see him trough his mask. It had become a ritual but then Ultron happened. And then she was believing his mask just as everyone else did, apart from Bruce.

God he missed his science bro. He was the only one who had understood him and seen Tony’s true self, caring for him like a big brother would. Tony had needed this trip to adjust and repair the mask, to rehearse in front of an audience. It was becoming suffocating though, mixing with the real him after all this time using it.

The cool wind brought him to the present. Looking up at the starry sky of Wakanda he felt a pang of nostalgia remembering how Jarvis- the human one- absolutely loved how beautiful the stars look. He used to jokingly ask him if he thought the stars knew how bright they shined.

The Avengers were and would always be his family, no matter what they thought of him, he loved them all. But sometimes he wished that his Jarvis was there with him, he would give anything to have a moment with him, to thank him for making his life easier during the period Tony had labeled ‘Howard’s domain’ to alleviate the weight of those memories. He would even go back to Howard’s domain to see J.

But no, he could never have him back, he was not a child anymore, he hasn’t been for a long time. Had he ever actually been a child? He doubted it. He was forced to grow faster than anyone ever should

He sighed

Sometimes he wished he could just tell them about his pain, about how damaged he really was. Yes, they knew he was damaged from Afghanistan, but what they didn’t know was that the damage was there for longer than a few years, it had started in his childhood.

But every time he tried to talk to them he remembered that people would leave him for doing the wrong thing. And they did, they left him alone for doing what he thought was right. He didn’t want to risk losing his family again only to reveal his sob story, they had a lot on their plate as it was.

They had expected Tony to be angry with them, vengeful and downright mean. They had expected a smug smile on his lips as they signed the Accords. They had expected a great revenge or something. They hadn’t expected him to try and mend things between them. They hadn’t expected jokes and playfulness and a eyes full of regret and tiredness.

Clint had demanded he apologise for having hurt them all. Most of all Steve. That’s what he said. He said that Cap had told them what happened in Siberia. He said they knew that Tony had faked a truce to arrest them. Clint said they knew he had betrayed Steve again and beaten him and Barnes. Obviously Cap had lied to them.

Anyone else would probably hate him, them, at this point.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t have any living family. All he had was the family he had made for himself. The Avengers. And Tony doesn’t turn on family. Even if they turn on him.

So he apologised

Steve seemed surprised by that, confused even.

Tony supposed that was to be expected, after all, when has Tony Stark ever apologized for anything?

“I thought you would be geeking out in Shuri’s lab, or at least celebrating your victory with some scotch” Natasha said a joking tone. But he knew her better than she thought apparently because he could hear the surprise in her voice. Maybe even a hint of concern. Well, that couldn’t be now, could it? She didn’t like, let alone care about him. She didn’t care, just like everyone else

Anyway

She talked about drinking like he could drink anything alcoholic with all the meds he was taking “Just checking out the view, I still believe my tower’s is better mind you, but this is nice” he said with nonchalance still facing the stars. Hoping his mask didn’t crack he plastered a smile on his face and looked at her. He loved Nat, but he couldn’t let his mask slip right now, there was just too much pain, and he’ll be damned if he hurts one of them again, even if accidentally. He was still too afraid to show her, hell any of them, what was underneath the mask. Even if a little part of him wanted to tell her anyway.

“Of course you’d believe that” she muttered, half amused and half annoyed, probably by the gigantic ego his mask showed. “You sure you’re okay?” She asked, concern now clear in her voice. She must have been there longer than he thought if she was concerned about him. How long has he been out there? He remembered the sunset, so it must have been a few hours already.

“Oh Red! I didn’t know you cared!” He exclaimed mockingly hoping, praying to avoid the question.

***

At her steely glare he smiled, just barely “I’m just fine Nat, no reason to worry I’m… I’m always fine” he said, giving her a tight smile

She frowned “you sure about that?” she knew he usually lied about physical pain, but emotional pain was always obvious on him. Or so she thought, but just three seconds ago when he didn’t know she was there his face was scrunched up in sorrow. She was sure he was grieving, she saw it, his face was so full of pain just a second ago you’d think someone had just died. But now he closed off so quickly she was left spinning. For all his masks, Tony had never fooled Natasha. But his demeanour had changed so quickly in so little time she was left to re-evaluate all the times he said he was fine and made her think he meant it. Had he always lied so easily? If she hadn’t witnessed the change herself she wouldn’t have believed it.

He cocked his head, confused “sure am, why do you ask?”

“Because I know you, and instead of doing your usual little ‘who’s got a bigger dick’ dance with Cap and Clint, you apologised. I’m just wondering if you’re okay”

He snorted then, completely straight faced he said “first of all, I’ve got the biggest dick between the three of us-”

“And how would you know that?”

“-and second of all, of course I’m fine, I mean, I was right wasn’t I? They were all wrong and I was right, I won they lost, I’m the rightful heir to Cap’s now fallen righteousness, muhuhahaha- that was an evil laugh by the way- and all that”

She smiled despite herself. Damn it! He was changing the argument and she didn’t even notice. And to think she had come here to try and get away from all the drama. The team ‘we hate Tony Stark’ was at it again, talking about how Ultron didn’t seem such an accident if you thought about it. Obviously they didn’t really hate Tony, but they were angry, more so now that they had to acknowledge that the accords were good. Or at least that they would have happened anyway and that with Tony’s help they were acceptable. It was too much for her and she had to get out. So she went out on the balcony, surprised to find company. Natasha knew the others had deep pains, but Tony didn’t seem to have any apart from Afghanistan but he hardly ever talked about it. He was always the one smiling, making jokes and giving dumb nicknames. She was tempted to believe that he was fine if it weren’t for the pain she had seen in his expression a couple of moments ago

She sighed, well if she couldn’t get him to talk then she’d have to keep him company. She gets closer to him as he starts rambling

“Also- how do I know that I have the biggest dick? Well let me tell ya, the SHIELD’s helicarrier’s showers aren’t exactly see through, but, and listen carefully because it’s gonna become complicated from now on: so you were on a mission and Clint started this prank war and...”

She smiled softly, listening to him talk. She let the hours pass, enjoying being near her friend for the first time in who knows how long

“I can’t wait to show you around in the compound. I made so many improvements you won’t even recognise it. I gotta admit, I’ll probably miss Wakanda’s tech but New York’s pizza is waaay better than whatever they tried to convince me was food here” he said much later, when they were getting up from their seated position

She moved faster than his tired stride, arriving at the door before him and entering the building.

“Hey Nat?” She stopped, turning around “thanks for… for checking up on me” he said softly as he entered and moved towards his room. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew that out of all the things he said that night, that was honest.

She smiled to herself, she had missed her little brother


	2. Monsters vs. Angel

_“Why didn’t you help me, Antonio?” The olive skinned woman asked_

_“I’m so sorry mamma, I swear I tried to stop him, but he was so strong! I just couldn’t” The little brunette boy pleaded her to believe him. He cried as he saw bruises and blood making their way on the beautiful woman’s face._

_“You couldn’t help her even if you tried you worthless freak!” Howard screamed_

_“I tried I swear!” The child tried to defend himself _

_“No you didn’t, you wanna know why? Cause you are just a selfish peace of shit, that’s why” he said smirking at his crying son “and no matter what you do” he slowly stalked towards the boy “you’ll always be a selfish” a punch brought the kid to his knees “pathetic” a kick to the boy’s stomach made him fall backwards landing on his back “worthless” the man kneeled down to be able to throw another punch at his son, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt “waste of air!” _

_“No! It’s not true!” Tony yelled desperately _

_“It’s not? Then why don’t you look for yourself then!” The man dragged the boy to a mirror so that he would be able able to look at himself. He did so. He was white as a sheet, bruises gracing his small features, ribs poking through his shirt, no hints of muscles. He was incredibly small for his age. Nothing special. Useless. **Weak**. Tears fell on his cheeks. “Are you crying boy?!” Howard grabbed his face turning it so that it faced him. A slap prompted him to respond “answer me!”_

_“Y-yes… yes sir” he cried out as another slap made its way to his face_

_“Stark men don’t cry!” His father whispered angrily “repeat!” He screamed_

_“S-Stark men d-don’t cry!” He tried desperately to stop crying _

_“Might as well kill you” Howard said as he broke the mirror, taking a shard in hand “no one will ever love a worthless freak like you, right? Not even your friends! Cause they don’t love you, do they? They have never loved you and will never love you! Not them, not anyone!” He said laughing_

_“You’re lying! Stop! Stop! STOP!” The little boy screamed. But he didn’t stop, he never stopped. He never stopped calling him pathetic, worthless, stupid, freak, **weak**. He held in his tears as his father approached, refusing to be **weak**. But he was, wasn’t he? No matter what he’ll do he’ll always be **weak**. Unwanted. Useless. **Unlovable**. His father got closer and closer. He raised the shard, ready to strike and-_

“Stark!” Tony woke up, gasping for air. It was the same dream he’d had for the past few weeks. His only relief it’s been that Howard was dead. Which brought his mind to Maria. His mamma. Who died at the hands of the man that was seated in front of him and was watching him with a weird expression on his face. Sure, she wasn’t the best mum, always on heavy antidepressants mixed with wine, making her mostly absent from his life, but she didn’t deserve to die like that. Barnes caught his eye and looked away guiltily. The dreams had been about him too. Him and Steve, beating the crap out of him. But they had been mostly about his past. Howard. And the Avengers. The Avengers betraying him. The Avengers killing him. But the worst ones were about him ripping the Avengers apart. Him betraying them. Him killing them. He was gonna destroy this family too. What remained of it at least. He had destroyed it once, and he was gonna do it again. It broke him. The knowledge that he was gonna do something, say something and it all would be over. A cool hand pressed gently against his shoulder. He looked over to see Nat staring at him calmly with a hint of concern in her eyes.

“We’re here” she said, tearing his thoughts away from his nightmares

“What?” He asked dumbly still not completely used to reality.

“I said we’re here, котёнок” Nat huffed.

“I’m not a kitten!” he whined childishly “if anything I’m a tiger- or a lion, yeah, I’m definitely a lion. A big, strong, genius, humble lion” he said smugly

She rolled her eyes “whatever you say, котёнок” Tony did a wrong copy of the military salute and followed her out of the car with Barnes, Wilson and Maximoff. Maximoff frowned as she looked at him. Weird. As they boarded the Quinjet he noticed that the others were already there. Rogers eagerly waved Barnes over, patting the seat next to him. Wanda made a beeline for the seat next to Vision. Sam went straight for the seat between Clint and Lang. Tony went for the pilot seat and Nat for the co-pilot. “What was your dream about?” She asked before he could open his mouth. He wondered for a moment, what would would happen if he told her the truth. By lying he could put their relationship on the line, but by telling the truth the result would be the same cause he didn’t tel the truth sooner. So both ways, he was gonna endanger their… whatever this was, but in one case he was showing himself as **weak**. What was she gonna think of him if he told her he couldn’t even protect his own mother? So, change of subject it was

“What else would I dream of if not of you?” He said winking at her

“First of all, ugh gross, second of all it sounded like you were having a nightmare” Nat said. She looked into his eyes and challenged him to prove her wrong. He couldn’t prove her wrong, but he could stall as long as he could

“Wait- ‘_gross_’? What am I? Chopped liver?” She just raised an eyebrow. He sighed “What nightmare are you talking about?” He asked. He could see the flicker of smugness in her eyes

“The nightmare you had in the car” she said. Tony thought about his options for a moment. Either lie and risk ruining their… whatever they had, or tell the truth and let her know he had lied to her for years. Well, not lied, omitted the truth was more like it. But she would still think of it as betrayal. Which meant either way would be harmful to their relationship, and even though she already disliked him, he couldn’t bear seeing the hatred- or worse, pity in her eyes. So, lying was the best choice once again

He swallowed and glanced away to seem vulnerable “Afghanistan” the choked out word was enough for her, and she didn’t notice the lie

He didn’t notice her watching him for the rest of the flight either

***

Tony woke up screaming for the umpteenth time, his throat raw and voice hoarse, jumping up and trying to run because _they were in danger he had to get to them he had to run he had to protect them from himself-_ but something grabbed his foot and he fell, hitting his head. His head pulsed but _he had to move he had to save them he had to protect them_\- he tried to crawl towards the door but his head spun and there were spots in his vision and _he had to go… he- he had to… to go… he… save them-_ everything went black.

Tony was woken by the sound of the Avengers alarm blaring. His head was pounding and when he tried to get up he found his foot was tangled in the sheets. Huh, so that’s what ‘grabbed’ him. The alarm blared again hurting his head and he got up slowly, trying to get the room to stop spinning. Once it did he undressed in a hurry, realising distantly that there was blood on the back of his shirt, wrapped the bandages around the Arc Reactor and threw on the under-suit. He ran (read: stumbled) to the wall-length window which opened automatically. The wind slapped his face as he looked down and _oh god rhodey was falling and it was his fault his faulthisfaulthisfault-_ he shook his head and jumped. He called the suit and it wrapped around him making him soar through the sky to reach the others. “Whatts goin’ n?” He asked through the comms slurring his words. He must have hit his head harder then he thought

“Finally gracing us with your presence Stark?” Clint asked, his voice full of spite

“About time” Sam murmured sounding out of breath

“Stark where the hell were you?!” Steve asked 

“I-”

“No wait” Clint interrupted him “I don’t want to hear how much he drank”

“I wasn-”

Clint stopped him again “Yeah, sure you weren’t, it’s not like you’re slurring and flying in late because you are drunk”

“‘m not-”

“You’re drunk?!” Steve yelled

He had to close his eyes as his head pulsed even more. All the yelling was making his head hurt so much he felt dizzy. He opened them again and kept quiet, he wouldn’t probably make any sense in this state. 

And there was no point in arguing really. After all, he knew Clint, and when he was hurt he lashed out. And right now he was more hurt than Tony had ever seen him. He felt betrayed and he couldn’t even his family without a guard in the room and it was all thanks to Tony.

He arrived at the battle scene and finally found out what was going on.

There was an army of sorcerers trying to take over New York. There was something wrong about the sorcerers though, they all had completely white eyes and they seemed… void. Their faces slack and expressionless. And, holy shit was that Wong?! His eyes were glazed over and white, like everybody else’s. This was all wrong

Also, where was Strange? Shouldn’t he be there to take care of it? Wasn’t this his field of expertise? “Fri, ‘ntact Strange” nothing happened “Fri?” He started panicking “Friday?!” _Nonono not his baby girl too not her too not like J please no_ “I think they did som’ing to fri” he raised his voice to be heard by the others. But he got no reply. They couldn’t hear him. Okay, it was okay he just had to get to the others and then he could just tell them in person. 

He fought his way to the others but then there was a sorcerer throwing something at Wanda and she couldn’t hear him so he put himself between the two. 

The thing hit him square in the chest. 

At first nothing happened but then he was burning _burning and falling falling like Rhodey falling like Pepper falling fallingfallingfallingfalling-_ he crashed on a rooftop, feeling something in his left arm crack, his ribs flashing in pain, the breath knocked out of him. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the roof. He tried to breathe but the suit was trapping him, pressing on his arc reactor. He pressed the release button and took a mouthful of air as soon as the suit opened, coughing and spitting blood. 

Huh. Blood. He must have bitten his tongue 

A spark flew from the armour, burning his shoulder. He jumped away from the suit. It was completely and utterly destroyed. 

He fell heavily on his back, trying to regulate his breathing. When he finally pulled his shit together he heard someone laugh. He looked over the edge of the building he was on, which was thankfully only two floors high, and saw the person that was probably controlling all the sorcerers since his eyes were clearly black instead of white, and his face wasn’t slack but full of pure delight. 

He was facing all the other avengers who were held by at least five white eyed sorcerers each. They couldn’t see him and the sorcerer in control hadn’t noticed him yet. Wanda freed herself with a spurt of her power, sending the five sorcerers flying and pointed her powers toward the sorcerer in command. She must have understood that the others were basically dummies as well. 

He only laughed at her attempt to hurt him as he had just dodged it. He said something, and even if Tony couldn’t hear him from the ringing that was becoming louder and louder in his ears, he could still read his lips and got something about playing a game. He started levitating, flying almost as high as the building Tony was on, and then e cloned himself. There were tens of him. 

Meanwhile the other Avengers had stopped struggling, their eyes glazed over and white.

Wanda tried to hit him again, and she did, but it was probably just a clone and not the original, because it just disappeared, replaced by another immediately. She tried and tried again, failing every time.

The sorcerer was clearly enjoying himself as they were all laughing. He was so sure he had won.

But,Tony noticed something that Wanda probably didn’t: there was a glitch. Everyone moved almost exactly at the same time, but there was one, only one of the sorcerers that was moving just less than half a second before the others, and he was directly under Tony.

Tony could yell at her that he was the one, the one that was controlling everyone, but then they would lose the element of surprise.

So he ran to his suit ad grabbed a pointy piece of the scalding hot armour, his hands burning _his hands burning because he trusted Howard once again and now they burn burn burn burnburnburnburnburnburnburnburnburn-_ and pulled until it detached from the rest of the suit. He took a couple of steps back and ran toward the edge.

Tony jumped

He landed on the sorcerer, the real one since it didn’t just disappear, wrapping his legs around him and his left arm around the sorcerer’s neck to avoid falling. His arm hurt from the previous fall but he didn’t let go. They struggled for a few moments and then he finally was able to stab the sorcerer’s stomach, in a non lethal point, making him scream in pain and grab his arm, twisting it off of him and pressing his palm to Tony’s chest, a warm feeling expanding through him.

And then he disappeared in thin air

And then Tony was falling. A scream was trapped in his throat as he fell and in what seemed to be the no time he was almost on the ground. 

Then he was surrounded by red mist.

Wanda slowed his fall but couldn’t stop it completely and he landed badly on his ankle.

He hissed but ignored it, getting to his feet and running to the others

They were all looking around in confusion. He stopped and let out a breath when he saw they were all okay minus some minor scratches and bruises.

“You ‘kay?” He asked Clint who seemed to be holding his left side

“Yes” he replied harshly “I’d be better if you actually had your head in the game and weren’t drunk off your ass, maybe this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you!” He yelled enraged. Clint left him there, eyes wide and shocked at the notion that he would think Tony would actually come to a battle drunk.

No one noticed when he turned around, eyes cast down and went to Wong, knowing the Avengers wouldn’t care for his concern, nor be concerned about him.

As soon as Wong noticed Tony his expression changed from one of confusion to one of concern “Stark, are you okay?” 

His head hurt, his chest hurt, his hands hurt, his left arm hurt and his right ankle absolutely throbbed with pain “Mmmmm, yeah, think so” god he was tired

Wong frowned “You’re slurring, did you hit your head?”

He nodded absentmindedly “doesn’ matter now, whers Strange?”

Wong’s frown became deeper “He’s away on a mission as the Supreme Sorcerer, do you need medical?”

He shook his head, which made the world spin and spots come into his vision. He walked away towards the building on which his suit was. He had to fix the suit and… what was it? Right, F.R.I.D.A.Y.

He forgot things often this last year, ever since Ultron, things like food. It’s not that he forgot as much as it was that he didn’t feel the need anymore. He just wasn’t hungry. And when before there was Rhodey to force him to eat, now he had no one. Sure, F.R.I.D.A.Y. tried, but she was just a child, and she couldn’t do much yet. Usually he forgot about eating, but sometimes about other things too. 

Like when just today he forgot to put on shoes. 

Tony limped through the rubble, his naked feet being cut by the glass on the ground, leaving behind bloody footsteps. He called two suits two him, one wrapping around him, the other taking the destroyed suit, both going to the compound. 

As soon as he touched the ground he went to the workshop’s shower. He entered without getting out of his clothes and turned it on cold, putting his burned hands under the water. He hissed as the bright red, blistered and swollen hands made contact with it, some of the burned skin falling down the drain. After it stopped hurting he dunk his head under the water, watching as pink water went into the drain. Once the water wasn’t pink anymore he turned off the water and got out, shivering. He undressed, dried, and dressed in some sweats and a long sleeved shirt. He wrapped bandages loosely around his hands and inspected his other injuries. 

His torso was bruised, probably a couple of bruised ribs. His left upper arm was red and swollen, nothing major, but it still hurt. His head had bled a lot, but after all that’s what head wounds do. It was just a concussion, didn’t need any stitches, and it was going to heal by itself. The bottom of his feet were full of little cuts. And finally, his ankle. It was very swollen and red and walking on it wasn’t the best of ideas.

He sighed

He limped to the hidden door in his bathroom and opened it, entering the secret room inside and picked up an ice pack for each injury but his hands’ and crutches and then went back to his couch, laid down, using the crutches to move, being careful to close the door behind him. 

He put an alarm on his phone to wake him up every three hours, for the concussion. 


	3. Run Boy Run

In the end he hadn’t needed the alarm, he woke up screaming once every two hours, hyperventilating and sweating. The burns in his hands reminding him of Howard and the bruised ribs of Afghanistan. The arc reactor shone brightly in the room, each time reminding him that, yes, Afghanistan had actually happened and that no, he wasn’t still there. 

The fourth time he just gave up on sleep.

His phone blared AC/DC’s Cold Hearted Man, reminding him to take his heart medication, the pain relievers, the antidepressants and the pills for his anxiety and PTSD. He ignored the pain relievers, as he rarely took them, too afraid to fall into another addiction. Also, he felt like he deserved every ounce of pain he got. After all, he had hurt thousands of people, so he should hurt for them too, right? He sent the others down dry and got up, the crutches hurting his hands as he used them to walk. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was still down and he needed to get her back online. He needed a cup of coffee. No. Two. Maybe three.

And… there was no coffee in the workshop. Great.

He would have gone to his floor, if it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t been there in months to work non stop, meaning no coffee there either. So common floor it was. He took off the shirt, bandaged the Arc Reactor, put on the another long sleeved shirt and went to the elevator. He left the crutches behind, as he didn’t want to be weak, not in front of the others at least. They had enough on their minds without getting concerned about the man they despised.

He limped to the elevator and pushed the common floor button.

Then everything went black.

***

“So, whose turn is it?” Natasha asked as she entered the common floor

“Well technically it’s Sam’s turn to choose, but Hell will freeze over before I watch another DC movie, so I’m gonna choose the movie today and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me”

“No, I meant whose turn is to check on him?”

Clint looked up from the television “Check on who?”

“Tony” she said as if it was obvious

“Why would we check on him? It’s not like he was the one who was hurt”

“Clint” she said with a hint of warning. He just shrugged. She breathed deeply “Steve, could you please tell Clint why we need to check on Tony?”

“Actually, I’m with Clint on this one” he said, putting down the knife he was using to cut the vegetables. She just raised an eyebrow “he was drunk, Nat, _at a fight_. People could have gotten hurt, damn it, Clint has _was_ hurt, I won’t accept this behaviour from him” he shook his head sadly “I really thought he had changed”

“I don’t believe he was drunk, and it wasn’t his fault Clint got hurt!”

“He was drunk, you heard him slur. And he’s just fine, you saw him walk away from the battle, he didn’t even glance at the ambulance”

Her anger flared up “There’s a reason why we used to check on him Steve! He’s too bullheaded to go to medical! You know him, he could be hurt!”

“He’s an adult, he can take care of himself” Steve ended the argument

She exhaled angrily and turned around, ready to storm away to check on Tony, when the lights flickered and went off. She stopped in her tracks, and reached for her gun.

“What has Stark done now?” Sam asked sounding a little annoyed, but mostly concerned

Natasha furrowed her brows “You think one of his experiments went out of hand like last time?”

“What else could it be?” Clint asked “if it was anything else Friday would have warned us”

They wordlessly agreed to take the stairs to Tony’s workshop instead of the elevator, as without electricity it probably wasn’t safe

***

The first thing Tony noticed was that he woke up slowly. It was different from his usual awakening, for one it wasn’t caused by nightmares or Howard’s yelling voice, it wasn’t sudden. And that in itself made him alert. The second thing he noticed was the pain. That’s more like it, he thought. Pain was normal, pain was something he could handle.

He opened his eyes to find everything was dark. He felt the cold hard pavement under him and got up, ignoring the pain in his ankle.

He noticed he had trouble breathing but didn’t panic, Howard or the latest kidnappers had probably just cracked another one of his ribs. And he was probably locked in a room for having misbehaved. So he was either kidnapped or in trouble with Howard. He hoped it was the former

Suddenly the lights flickered on making him startle. Uh. He was in an elevator. His house didn’t have any. So, kidnapped it was. 

Yey 

His head hurt, he was probably concussed, which explained why he didn’t remember a thing. Or maybe he had been drugged. But then why was he in an elevator? He decided he was probably concussed and had tried to escape even with a bad ankle, thus the elevator and not the stairs, and must have fainted during the travel to wherever he was going. He noticed he was dressed in a pair of sweats and a black long sleeved shirt.

His arms itched. He looked at them and rolled up a sleeve, gasping at the sight of the nasty scar that was just laying there, as if it belonged there. He rolled up the other sleeve to find that he had a matching scar on his other arm. How long had he been in the hands of his kidnappers? And… why had he tried to kill himself? Sure, he had always thought one day he would do it, he just didn’t think it’d be this soon. His heart was beating loudly in his ears. He looked down at his chest and noticed the bandages under the shirt, he unwrapped them and looked numbly at the mass of scars surrounding the blue circle imbedded in his chest. God, what had they done to him? He rewrapped the bandages and lowered the shirt back down.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened 

He rolled the sleeves back down and looked left and right before cautiously getting out of the elevator. He saw a kitchen and went towards it to try and find any knives or possible weapons, keeping himself alert to seek out any sound or movement. He reached the counter and noticed that unless this place was furnished for someone extremely big, he just hadn’t grown. Which meant- 

His thoughts where interrupted by another elevator dinging. He grabbed the knife that was on the counter and slipped it up his sleeve, then hid himself behind the counter, listening to the voices of people getting closer and closer. Three of the people got further away while one didn’t.

He shifted as he heard footsteps coming in his direction and got on the other side of the counter, heart beating loudly in his ears, staying low to avoid being seen. He tried to sneak away from the counter as the person started searching for something, but the guy moved too and cut off his exit, forcing him to get behind the counter once again. Luckily, the man didn’t yet know of his presence.

Okay, the only way out of there was either wait it out, or somehow knock the guy out. But there was no guarantee that the guy wouldn’t notice him or that more people wouldn’t come in the kitchen too. So, knocking out the guy was the best possible choice.

He noticed a frying pan on the other side of the counter and waited a for window of opportunity. Once the man finally turned away to get something from the cupboard he took a big breath and, ever so slowly and silently, he got closer to the frying pan. He grabbed it and gently lifted it up, making barely a sound. He took out the knife out and in one swift motion he cut the back of the guy’s right knee making him fall to one knee and hitting him in the temple with the frying pan before he could scream.

He fell to the ground unconscious with a thud

“Cap, you okay there?” Another guy asked coming from the other room. He looked at the downed form of ‘Cap’ and then at Tony, his eyebrows furrowing in concern for ‘Cap’ and then raising in surprise.

Tony used the moment of surprise to hurl the frying pan at his head, startling him, and running at the new man as he caught the pan at the last moment. Luckily he had been too distracted by the frying pan to notice Tony running toward him until it was too late and Tony had rolled, slipping through his legs, embedding the knife in his tight while he was doing so. Tony kept running, leaving the knife in the guy’s tight because he wanted to incapacitate him, not make him bleed out, hearing the thud of the black skinned man falling and his scream of pain.

His naked feet slapped on the cold pavement as he ran as fast as he could. He knew that if he wanted to be saved he had to save himself. No one would come. No one ever did.

As a redheaded woman came into view with an sandy blonde man Tony took no time in disappearing behind the door that led to the stairs. He decided to go up instead of down as there was someone coming up already.

He took two stairs at a time, ignoring the stabbing pain in his ankle at every step and the smothering pain in his chest at every breath he took. He finally got to the last floor, hoping for a helicopter being on the roof. He could pilot a helicopter, had done before in fact. All he had to do was get to it.

But as he opened the door to the roof he instantly noticed that there was no sign of an helicopter. 

Shit

He ran to the centre of the roof, looking for an escape, any escape.

But as the door opened behind him showing the woman and man he had seen before, plus another woman with some red mist dancing through her fingers, he understood that there was only one way out of there, out of the torture that would probably come, and the beating from Howard should he get back home. 

Only one way to save himself: jump

He ran towards the edge, putting everything he had in a mad sprint to his death, and once near enough, he jumped.

He was snatched back from the edge of the roof by a strong hand grabbing his shirt. He clenched his eyes shut, trying desperately to fight back, and, clawing at his captor’s arms, he yelled what he said to most of his kidnappers

***

“If you are going to kill me then do it! He is not going to pay!” The same kid who had just fucking tried to kill himself yelled as Clint brought him back from the edge of the roof

He suddenly went limp, which took Clint by so much surprise he let the kid go, letting him fall to his knees. The kid was looking at the city with wide eyes, his lips parted in surprise. He seemed to get his bearings pretty quickly, closing his mouth and narrowing his eyes as he got up and turned towards them 

“What’s the date?” Asked the kid

Clint looked at Tasha and Wanda confused, and they mirrored his expression

The kid took their expressions as ok to explain “I have scars, which are older than an year at least, I don’t know much about medicine, but I know these are older than a year, which means I either was in a coma, or I lost my memory, but neither is a possible choice because my height is still the same, ergo I didn’t grow nor age, but this is obviously New York and the skyscrapers are taller, and that means I’m not in my time. I either pushed through time, and found myself in the future, which I doubt, because of the scars, or time got pushed through ‘older me’, making ‘older me’ younger. The only questions I have are what year is it, and why don’t I have ‘older me’s memories”

“… uh, what?” Clint asked either dumbly. What did the kid just say? He looked at Wanda and Natasha and saw the same expression of confusion he probably had

The kid raised a brow, looking unimpressed “the EPR paradox? Ring a bell?” He sighed “time travel people? Come on, you gotta give me something here” he seemed to be getting impatient but Clint couldn’t really catch on to what he was saying: time travel? Did the kid hit his head? The kid- more like child, he couldn’t be older than five years old, sighed again “I suppose you know who Tony Stark is?” At their confused nod he continued casually “well, I’m him. He’s me. We’re one and the same”

Clint was starting to get concerned, the kid might really have hit his head if he thought he was Stark. He didn’t really know what to do and looked at Natasha for help, but she was looking at the boy with wide eyes. “Tasha? What’s going on?” Was this some kind of joke? Was she really believing him? Or had she noticed something he didn’t? Maybe this was just Stark’s secret child?

“Tony?” He heard Natasha ask 

What the…? He looked at the kid, like, _really_ looked at him.

The child seemed small, maybe a bit too small, the underfed kind of small, perhaps. A mess of curly black hair stood in all directions, olive skin a bit pail. A little scar on top of his left eyebrow might have been one of the scars he was talking about- and hadn’t Stark also had a scar just there after what the people were calling Civil War? Clint’s eyes traveled a bit down to meet the child’s, and he was met with a startling familiar amber colour. 

“…Stark?” Clint asked wide eyed

But he couldn’t be, could he?

The child locked eyes with him and rolled his too familiar eyes

“Duh” 

Well, Clint thought with as much heart as he possibly could, _shit_


	4. False Confidence

“So, where am I? And what year is it?”

Clint looked at <strike>the child</strike> Tony dumbfounded 

“You’re on the roof of your compound, and it’s 2017” Natasha said without skipping a beat

<strike>the child</strike> Tony nodded “and you are?” He asked

“We are…” he searched for the right word. How did you describe what they were in just a word? What even were they? Coworkers/fellow heroes turned friends turned family turned enemies turned… what exactly? “…friends” he settled on

“I love how you said that with _so much_ confidence I _almost_ believed you” Tony deadpanned

Natasha rolled her eyes at Clint “we’re family”

“Now you sound way more sure about that than he did. So much so in fact that I almost believed you. Key word: almost” Tony said in a bored kind of way 

***

Tony’s heart was beating loudly in his ears as he interacted with the adults. He acted nonchalant but was actually terrified. Who were these people? Why were they claiming to be his friends- family? Were they coworkers trying to take advantage of the situation? Maybe they wanted something from him? Did they think they could fool him into giving them stuff? Maybe they wanted him to hand over the company since he had suffered an age regression in both body and mind? And if so, didn’t that mean Howard was dead? If he had the company it must’ve meant Howard was dead right? He wouldn’t just retire, so if Tony did have the company Howard was definitely dead. But did he have the company? Maybe these were Howard’s employees? Maybe- wait, what if they had changed him? Maybe they were kidnappers who thought it’d be easier to kidnap a child than an adult? But then why kidnap him at all? Who did they think would pay them? Maybe he had a friend in the future? Wait, should he refer to this as the future or the present or- jeez Stark, focus! If his father was dead, did it mean mamma was too? Wait! What about Jarvis? Ana? Aunt Peggy? He tried to calm himself down. There was an easy way to know if these people were his ‘friends/family/whatever’.

“What did my mum teach me?” He asked suddenly after, having panicked internally, he had looked at them blankly for a while

“Uh… what?” Asked the one who just moments ago had red mist swirling around her

“If you know what my mum taught me you are definitely my friends, otherwise, you are lying. So, what did she teach me?” There was no way they knew she taught him to play the piano

The woman who the man had called Tasha- was it for Natasha? Was she Russian? instantly answered “to speak Italian” 

Tony narrowed his eyes and hummed in consideration, he supposed she had taught him that too, and he never would have told anyone about that unless he trusted them. He nodded “Are... are my parents dead?” He asked, feigning fear at the possibility of his parents’ demise, which wasn’t too hard as he was fearing the death of Jarvis and Ana. Not asking about his parents would make them suspicious, cause he could bet everything he had ‘future him’ (present him?) hadn’t told them about his childhood. He had made a promise to himself when he was about four, just after Howard had hit his mamma for the first time and Tony wasn’t able to help, that no one would know how **_weak_** he was. Ergo, he was positive he hadn’t told anyone about his childhood. So, to keep up appearances he had to ask about them. Not that he didn’t care about his mamma, but Ana was more of a mother than Maria ever was. And Jarvis was more of a father than Howard could ever have been.

There was an awkward pause before the man kneeled down and gently, if not hesitantly, put his hands on his shoulders, making him almost flinch, but thankfully he suppressed it enough that the adults didn’t notice. “I’m… I’m sorry buddy, they are” he said   
  
Tony took in a shuddering breath, making his lip tremble on purpose. He let a tear fall, then another and another. He scrunched his face up in sorrow and started sobbing, throwing himself at the man, hugging him tightly and clutching his shirt in his hands. The man hugged back, sadness clear in his very being as he whispered sweet nothings to him such as ‘it’ll be okay’ and ‘just breathe’ when he started fake hyperventilating

Most of the crying was fake 

Again, not that he didn’t love his mamma, but she had been barely present for the first three years of his life, absent for the other three. And his father had beaten the family motto into him enough times that, even if he did want to cry out of pure grief, he wouldn’t have. The only reason he was crying right now was to fool the people around him. After all crying was **_weak_** but not protecting his own mamma from Howard was even **_weaker_**. So, to stay true to his four year old’s promise, he faked crying for his deceased parents. Not crying would give away too much. 

But he had to admit, even if it pained him to do so, part of the crying was real. Because he was tired and hurting and confused and scared. Because he didn’t know who were the people surrounding or why was he in this situation. Because his chest hurt every time he took a breath and he didn’t know why. Because he had two jagged lines going from his wrists to almost his elbows. Because he didn’t even know if Jarvis and Ana were alive. Because he hadn’t cried in who knows how long.

He sobbed harder

He let himself relax a fraction. It was nice, in a twisted way. He couldn’t remember the last time that someone who wasn’t Jarvis or Ana or aunt Peggy hugged him. And even then the hugs were brief and fleeting in case Howard caught them and punished them for coddling him. And the man was rubbing comforting circles on his back, hugging him tightly. He clung to him and buried his face in his shoulder, letting time pass. The man… he reminded him of Jarvis. His hug was safe in a way only a father’s was capable of being

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. He needed to know more about the situation. So he had to find a way to let them talk freely in front of him… sleeping, he had to fake sleeping he thought as he counted the minutes.

He let minutes pass by, and waited the thirty minute mark before faking to exhaust himself to sleep, regulating his breathing to be slower and deeper, letting his eyes fall closed and his face relax. His sobs quieted and his sniffles faded. He let his full body weight rest on the man, boneless and forcibly relaxed.

The man had done this before, Tony noted as he lifted him up with an ease and calm that came solely from handling children on a daily basis. He was definitely a father. The man hugged him to his chest “let’s go to the common room, we need to see how Cap and Sam are, and they’ll want to know about Tony” he said lowly to the women.

They slowly, probably as not to wake him, made their way to the common floor, using the elevator.

The elevator dinged and then they were there, and Tony heard a grunt of pain from somewhere to his left

“Stop whining, you’re distracting me” said… someone

“Oh I’m sorry James, is my _pain_ distracting you?” Tony recognised that voice as the one who he had stabbed in the thigh 

“It is actually, thanks for asking” ‘James’ said 

“Asshole” murmured the first guy

“You’d think he’d be kinder to the guy who’s currently stitching his wound”

“Is this what you humans call ‘banter?” Asked whispering a new voice, closer to them

“Oh no, Viz, this has more ‘old married couple bickering’ vibes” the man holding him said 

“Stop bickering you two, you’re making my headache worse. Damn that kid has a mean swing” said another guy, probably the one Tony had hit with the frying pan

“Captain America, downed by a five year old” snickered the one who was getting stitches

“Talking about said five year old” said the man holding Tony making their presence known

“You got him?” Asked the one they called ‘Captain America’. Tony was very tempted to blow his cover and snort at the nickname 

“He’s so scrawny!” He heard the guy getting stitches yell “how the hell did you get knocked out by a little scrawny kiddo like him?” He asked sounding dumbfounded 

“You knocked out a five year old?” Asked concernedly ‘James’ 

“What? No! Who do you take me for? He just cried himself to sleep” the one being questioned whispered 

“Why was he crying? Clint, did you make him cry?” Asked ‘Captain America’ in a disappointed voice

“Oh come on! When have I ever made a kid cry?” ‘Clint’ asked whispering harshly

“Well, there was that one time-” started ‘Tasha’ whispering too

“It was one time, guys, one time!” He interrupted her, whispering in fond exasperation as the others chuckled

“Then why was he crying?” Asked the one getting stitches, whispering

“Also, who is he? And why did he stab Samson and Cap?” Asked ‘James’

“I told you that’s not my name” ‘Samson’ sounded annoyed

“Sure you did, Samson” mocked ‘James’

“You little-” started ‘Samson’ 

“Guys! Stop, you’ll wake him” interrupted ‘Clint’ bouncing up and down, probably to keep Tony asleep

“As for your question about who he is, well… he’s Tony” said ‘Tasha’ bluntly

“Just Tony? No surname?” Asked ‘Samson’ confused

“No, no, you didn’t get it, he’s _Tony_” said ‘Clint’

“Yeah… I got the name… what about it?” Asked ‘Samson’ cautiously

“He. Is. Tony” ‘Clint’ said slowly “Stark” when nobody said anything he continued “you know, billionaire genius playboy philanthropist?” Still silence “the one who owns this compound?” 

“Yeah Clint, we know who Tony Stark is, but who’s the kid?” Asked slowly ‘Captain America’

“Wait, you mean he’s Stark’s kid?” Asked Samson “you owe me fifty bucks, Buck”

“hilarious” deadpanned ‘James/Buck’

“No, I’m saying he _is_ Stark” 

And there was silence

“You sure I’m the one who hit his head?” Quipped ‘Captain America’

“He’s serious” said ‘Tasha’ “the kid is Tony Stark, his body got pushed through time”

“What does that mean?” Asked ‘Samson’ 

“It means” started the only person he hadn’t already heard, who he supposed was the one with the red mist “that Stark got de-aged”

For a moment there was silence 

“_Fuck_” said ‘Captain America’. It was muttered but no less heartfelt__

_ __ _

“Language” chorused the room

_ __ _


	5. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a bit shorter than usual, but someone told me they had a bad day so I’m trying to make it better. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“Sleep well котёнок” murmured ‘Tasha’ as she tucked him in. Why she called him a kitten, he didn’t know, but he was almost tempted to wake up from his fake sleep to whine about not being a kitten, if anything, he was a lion or something. But that would be childish and Stark weren’t childish. Also it would blow his cover, but still.

As soon as the door was closed he opened his eyes and looked around for cameras. He found one and noticed it wasn’t active, so he got out of the covers, sitting up and letting his legs fall from the side of the bed, he let himself slide down and looked around the room, going to the door he supposed was the bathroom’s. He entered and started searching the walls for a secret door. If he really did live there, then there should be a secret door. Not just because he liked secret doors (even though it was a big part of it) but because Howard didn’t let him keep anything to take care of his wounds for when Howard tried to ‘make him grow a backbone’, and he had found a hole in his bathroom under the sink where he hid the ice packs and gauzes Jarvis gave him. He had promised himself one day he would get a whole room full of medical supplies to spite Howard’s grave. It just made sense to put it in his bathroom, as it was where he had probably hid his medical supplies his whole life. “Please be a secret door- please be a secret door- please be a secret door” he whispered and- there, he pressed on a tile and a part of the wall slid open. “Yay” He looked inside and was met with a room full of medical supplies he couldn’t even name but had always dreamed of having. If he didn’t have his love for machines (and an asshole of a father) he would’ve probably studied to be a surgeon

So, he really did live there.

He carefully closed the door and got back into the bedroom. Now all he had to figure out was if Jarvis and Ana were still- he gulped, afraid of even thinking about them not being… still alive. And there was only one simple way to confirm their death, he had to go to his parents’ graves. After all, he always knew that if he survived Jarvis and Ana he would have buried them in the family portion of the cemetery. But what about aunt Peggy? Was she still alive? Well, to find that out, he would have to hack into Shield’s database, they’d know. 

But first, Jarvis and Ana

Silently opening the door he sneaked out of the room, staying low and walking fast, ignoring the pains in his body, remaining in the shadows in a way that only years of sneaking behind Howard’s back could teach. He reached the elevator and waited for it to come up. As he waited he looked nervously around, expecting someone to come art any moment. The elevator dinged and he startled, heart beating madly and the beat of it pounding in his head. He got into the elevator and got to the parking lot, trying to sneak out of the back door before he noticed a weird airplane. It was smaller and had a weird shape. Well, it surely was faster to go by plane. He entered the plane and got to the cockpit, trying to understand how to make it fly as fast as he could and then suddenly he knew what to do. He clicked a few buttons and then the ceiling was opening, letting him fly in the sky easily. How he knew what to do he didn’t know. Perhaps the concussion added to whatever made him small and had made him forget his adult life but not the things he had learned.

He flew away fast, not really knowing where to go, as he didn’t know where he was. But on one of the screen there was a map, and he finally got the plane to go into the right direction. He put in the auto-pilot and rested his chin on his fisted hand

It didn’t seem real. Not the de-aging part, that seemed real enough. No, the Jarvis and Ana and aunt Peggy could be dead part didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be… right? No, he decided, it couldn’t. After all, if they had all died he wouldn’t have any reason to leave, so he wouldn’t be there, leaving and breathing. Unless… he looked down at his clothed arms, the shirt hiding the two nasty gashes. Unless he had tried. 

And failed

How pathetic was that? Huh? He had tried to kill himself and failed. Like every other time he tried to do something. Trying being the key word. After all, when had he ever succeeded? He couldn’t live without his family and he couldn’t die properly either. His father was right. He was _useless_. _Pathetic_. **_Weak_**. 

A tear made its way down his cheek

_Stark men don’t cry_

He tried to keep in his tears. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. 

_Stark men don’t cry_

He angrily wiped at his eyes and let out an angry breath. 

** _Stark men don’t cry_ **

He clenched his teeth and ignored his feelings, he turned off the auto-pilot and focused on flying the plane

***

_It didn’t seem real_. His mind repeated over and over as he looked at the graves in front of him. It couldn’t be. He was petrified. His thoughts stopped and with them so did his breathing. His lungs clenched and unclenches quickly, but didn’t seem to draw any air

_He- he couldn’t- he couldn’t breathe! _

He fell to his knees in the cold mud in front of the tombstone, trying to breathe and panicking even more when he found he couldn’t, his eyes locked on the names written in the stone

** _Ana & Edwin Jarvis_ **

He tried to look away but couldn’t. _They left him. They promised- they promised they wouldn’t! And they broke their promise_

A memory came unbidden- _a starry night, it was cold, their breaths coming out in white puffs, Jarvis’ hand on his shoulder and a twinkle in his eyes “young sir, do you think they know how bright they shine?” Tony’s rare giggle was loud against the soundless night, and Jarvis ruffled his hair, smiling happily at him as the child giggled once more_

_“Edwin, you’ll make him freeze like this” Ana came from behind them, chiding her husband gently_

_“Oh, he’s fine darling, he’s wearing a coat” Jarvis waved her concerns away_

_“Just look at him, his nose is red, as are his cheeks. He’ll catch a cold” she came closer, offering her hand to him “come Tony, I have a mug of hot chocolate with your name on it, inside” Tony took her hand happily_

_“None for me?” Jarvis almost pouted, and Tony let out another tiny giggle_

_“Why would I give you any when you’re letting my Tony freeze?” She said without bite _

_Jarvis made puppy eyes, a move he had learned from Tony, and took his wife’s other hand in his, interweaving their finders and pleading her with his eyes_

_Ana rolled her eyes “yours is inside too” she said smiling as Jarvis pressed a chaste kiss to her lips in thanks_

_“Ugh, gross!” Exclaimed Tony, laughing, which in turn made the adults laugh too_  
  
_**They never knew how bright they shined**_

It was raining now, fat, cold drops slowly cascading down his face and hands, his clothes drenched. Tears were flowing freely- or maybe it was the rain, he didn’t know anymore. He wasn’t even aware it had started raining until a couple of seconds ago. He was hugging himself and rocking back and forth, trembling. 

_He was definitely going to catch a cold_, he thought distantly


	6. Lonely (But Not Alone)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas (Bonus Chapter)

25 December 2016

Christmas.

Lonely and alone are two vastly different words. One is a feeling, the other is a status. One can happen even when surrounded by people, the other only when nobody’s around.

In Italian this distinction doesn’t exists. There’s one word for both -solo, which needs to be preceded by the word ‘feeling’ -sentirsi, to mean lonely and the word ‘being’ -essere to mean alone. The distinction between ‘alone’ and ‘lonely’ would therefore need an extra word if translated in Italian as the distinction in itself doesn’t exist. But it should. Because this two words are completely different in meaning.

For example

Surprisingly enough, Tony had never been alone for Christmas.

Sure, it had always been a hard time for Tony. When he was a child, it was because, seeing his peers happy and ecstatic and eagerly waiting for the presents and the food and the obvious proof of love, the insistent reminders that his parents didn’t care about him worsened, becoming an unavoidable reality instead of the nagging feeling he had the rest of the year.

His mamma would at least try, with fake smiles and even faker laughs. She would pretend they were a happy little family, cook and force them to smile and have dinner together. She would start the dinner with a glass of wine, that, as Howard’s verbal jabs started digging deeper and deeper as the evening went, became two, then three and then became a bottle.

Still, he wasn’t alone thanks to his parents being alive and Jarvis and Ana, who, despite knowing Howard would punish them harshly if he found out about it, sneaked in some little presents he could hide easily in the hole in his bathroom. They were never shiny or elegant or expansive as the presents Obi used to give him at the Christmas charity galas. But they were funny or sweet or simply kind and most importantly they were undeniably theirs.

And then when he was fourteen Ana died early in December, the cancer finally catching up to her. And then Jarvis died the 24 of December, joining his wife barely three weeks after her. And then, three years later Maria and Howard both died in December, officially making Christmas a reminder of what he lost and what he never had nor could have. A family. 

And yet, even then, he wasn’t alone. With Rhodey and Mama Rhodes inviting him every year for the holidays, he never was alone. But then Rhodey signed up in the military, and he was rarely home for Christmas. But then again, not alone. By then he had Obie and Pepper at his side. And then just Pepper, and, sometimes, Rhodey.

But here comes the distinction.

While Tony didn’t mind being alone, as alone meant silence and being able to focus on his projects, he was rarely truly alone. Be it for Jarvis and Ana, Pepper and Rhodey, Obi, his AIs and his bots, or the random people who were around him every day, Tony had never truly been alone.

Still, the fact that he wasn’t alone didn’t mean he wasn’t lonely. He was, in fact, very lonely. Most of all at Christmas. Because you can be lonely even when surrounded by hundreds of people, and even though Tony wasn’t surrounded by hundreds of people, but barely two, he still felt very much lonely. He didn’t know why, exactly. He did have Rhodey and Pepper, and he knew they cared about him. But he was lonely. No matter who or how many people were around him, he just felt so lonely.

The feeling was almost constant, a deep thrumming in his chest, sometimes weaker, sometimes stronger. A pain which, every Christmas, turned into squeezing claws around his chest, constricting his lungs, making them stutter and stop every now and then, when the ‘Bad Thoughts’ as he dubbed them made themselves known. During the rest of the year he had learned to ignore the loneliness, but on Christmas. On Christmas it would tear him apart and crush him under its weight.

The Bad Thoughts didn’t help either. They too were bearable during the rest of the year, a whisper in the back of his head, constant but easy enough to ignore. But on Christmas they would join the feeling of loneliness, and from a mere whisper, they would become a scream, insistent and impossible to ignore.

So, yeah, while he did have feelings of loneliness and Bad Thoughts during the whole year, he had learned to live with them to the point they were mostly white noise, a weight he learned to bear, an itch he stopped scratching.

And Christmas was the day they would come back with a vengeance, trying to squeeze his lungs and crush his heart. They made Christmas a day he dreaded, a day he despised and loathed. A day in which panic attacks and flashbacks had free reign over his body and mind.

And then the Avengers were there, giving him people to fully rely on.

Yes, he had Rhodey, but he was gone more often than not. And Pepper, beautiful, kind Pepper. She was always there. But in a way, she wasn’t. The rift born between them was created long before Ultron. It had started with Iron Man.

So, the Avengers. They gave Christmas a new meaning besides the loss and loneliness he had come to know until then. Giving him what he thought he couldn’t have after Jarvis and Ana. Family. At least to him. He loved them all, like they were his own brothers and sisters. He loved all their little quirks and details

He loved the way Bruce would hum when he was cooking, or the way Natasha, try as she might, couldn’t help but smile at Clint’s jokes. He loved the little doodles Steve drew on the side of the mission reports’ pages or the way Wanda would rant for hours about how she hated Disney movies and yet was there every single time they would watch one. He loved how Thor got comfortable enough to share his tragedies with them and stop faking to always be happy and how big Vision’ eyes would get with wonder every time he discovered something new. He loved Clint’ stupid jokes and how Sam would change his voice higher or lower to interpret each person in the story he was telling.

But he knew, he knew they would never care about him as he did them. He knew he was far from perfect, and he knew they knew it too. And he had accepted it, really. The rest of the year

But on Christmas, he let himself hope. Hope that they would come to accept him. Hope that they would at least not hate him.

And when Christmas came, it almost looked like they did care about him, at least a little. Laughing with him instead than at him and giving him side hugs, letting him be a part of their family. Giving him presents he couldn’t buy. Presents that were sweet or funny or simply kind, and, most importantly, undeniably theirs. It reminded him so much of Jarvis and Ana’s presents, that he started to put them in the secret room in his bathroom like he did back then.

And so he got comfortable in the cozy warmth of the Avengers team, forgetting all about his fears of being left alone with his Bad Thoughts and the how utterly cold his loneliness was, believing fervently that there would always be the Avengers. He was so sure that they wouldn’t leave him like everyone else.

And yet, there he was, all alone on Christmas, staring intently at the bloody knife clutched in his trembling fingers, Bad Thoughts swirling through his head. He felt like he should laugh at some sort of twisted joke he hadn’t yet come up with.

But he was too tired to laugh. He just wanted to sleep… just wanted to sleep

He felt almost numb, if it weren’t for the crushing weight of what he had just done. He was neck deep in the quicksand that were Bad Thoughts, so much so that he barely heard the bots beeping worriedly just outside the door.

But he felt too tired to even reassure them. He was too tired to do anything by this point.

He was barely able to breathe and move his limbs, feeling his face drain of all color, dizziness taking over.

And, no matter how high he raised the shower’s temperature, water scalding and skin reddening… he was cold. Teeth clattering and hands trembling kind of cold. He hadn’t felt this cold since... Siberia. And no, it wasn’t for the snow or the wind or the lowering temperatures. It was because he had just realized he was alone. They had left him. All of them. He was alone. It was like with Jarvis and Ana again. Just, this time, they had left him willingly. Because he had messed up. It was his fault. He deserved to die alone, depressed and guilt ridden.

But then F.R.I.D.A.Y. came, piloting a suit to Siberia, saving him. And he lived, just barely, arc reactor back in his chest and the pain with it. And he tried being okay. He tried smiling and he tried snarking away his problems and he tried building things but- it- it just wasn’t- it felt _wrong_. And as time passed, he realized how messed up, how_ broken_ and **_weak_** he was.

He couldn’t even smile without feeling how unnatural it was on his face. He tried making it feel normal, practicing in front of a mirror, feeling his lips stretch in an almost painful way, but the _wrongness_ of it just didn’t fade away like he had hoped. And the more he tried, the more his checks hurt, the more his eyes darkened in tiredness, the more he lost hope in ever smiling honestly again.

He couldn’t even use sarcasm as a defense mechanism like he had always done, cause it just didn’t come out _right_. It just felt _wrong_ on his tongue, leaving a sour taste behind. And most of the time all that came to mind were self-deprecating jokes. He tried acting normally with the press, but every time he went out to talk to them nothing came to mind, as he didn’t have the will to speak anymore, wanting to just stay silent and keep quiet as opposed to his talkative self. He kept his answers brief and to the point, wanting to just go back to the calm and stillness of his compound.

And he couldn’t build. He tried to, he really did. But other than Rhodey’s braces, he just- he couldn’t. He didn’t have any ideas, didn’t feel the need to build or to keep his mind busy. He felt like his mind went slower than usual. His thoughts felt muddy, like they were underwater. He didn’t feel like building anymore. And that, most of all scared him shitless. He wasn’t Tony Stark without his ideas and his tech. He didn’t know who he was anymore.

So, there he was, still depressed, still drowning in guilt and loneliness, red slowly pouring out of his wrists.

He was alone at Christmas for the first time

And it was so, so cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought I’d give you an insight on how Tony came to consider suicide a possibility after CW. What do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> So, no idea if I should keep going, so... thoughts? Like it? Don’t like it? Have a love-hate relationship with it?


End file.
